Seconds
by In Hiding
Summary: "Firsts" tend to be the milestones that are sought after and focused on (the first date, the first kiss, the first declaration of love) but in some cases, the second time around can mean just as much, or more. (Jane/Lisbon; a series of canon-compliant one-shots focusing on their developing relationship in season 7.)
1. Prologue

It's not that he had expected it to be easy. Patrick Jane was more than adequately self-aware and had studied Teresa Lisbon for years, after all. He was hopeful but not assured.

But it surprised him just how difficult it turned out to be, how hesitant and slow. Exquisitely slow, with each word and move and countermove igniting love and care and growing heat.

So maybe "difficult" wasn't the right word, with the connotations it carried. Because what was happening between them was beautiful, made all the moreso by the halting pace. It hadn't been a light switch, a sudden admission of feelings sending them tumbling into bed. Despite their deep and abiding friendship, in many ways they were circling each other like people who had just met. But with so much HOPE of something more to come.

Yes, it was beautiful. And emerging from a world where beauty had been tinged red for so long, Jane was deliriously happy.


	2. Sleeping Over

The second time he'd gotten her drunk. Well, they were in the Airstream and the liquor was his, so maybe that was a technicality, because it had been her choice to keep drinking. "Drunk" was also not the most accurate descriptor. But definitely over the legal limit and not fit to drive.

"I should go." It was early for them, yet. She'd only been back from Washington for 11 days, and Jane was definitely keeping count. Not just tracking the time from the present and her breaking up with Pike, but also the time between the present and when they would have to go back to work. He'd thought this in-between space that had been created for them by paperwork and bureaucracy and the need for his ankle to recover was exactly what they needed to start figuring things out between them, but they were both still at a bit of a loss, all tentative, halting attempts and nervous butterflies. Truth be told it was kind of exciting to be treating their courtship as though they hadn't known each other for years, letting things play out and guessing at the other's thoughts instead of talking it to death. Thankfully unpacking her belongings gave them lots to do, but this evening he'd brought her to the Airstream to get a change of scenery and remove the temptation to deal with the last of the boxes, thinking that perhaps it might encourage them to move things along.

Alcohol, at least this much alcohol, apparently was all the encouragement that was needed.

"Do I need to make you walk a straight line?"

She giggled, freely, and that was sign enough that he was right to detain her. "Not necessary, officer. I'll call a cab."

"Stay. You didn't have that much to drink - a couple of hours and a couple of coffees and you'll be good to go."

"You just don't want me to leave." Yes, she was definitely buzzed. He knew because their relationship milestones weren't something they talked about yet, and definitely weren't something they joked about.

"That's always the case, I assure you," he told her with a dazzling smile. "But far be it from me to try to take advantage of someone under the influence. You're safe with me, Agent Lisbon."

And he was true to his word, though even tipsy she still hadn't entirely found her bravery.

He read to her over coffee, sitting side by side at the little table in the Airstream, but she only made it half way through her cup before she started to fade, leaning heavily against him. That was when he discovered she was ticklish, when he poked her to try to convince her to stay awake. But after his efforts propelled her up and away from him and he pursued her to the bed, attacking her sides with his deft fingers, she sought refuge under his comforter and then refused to get up.

"Just for a little while,"she pleaded, not that any pleading would have been required.

"Of course." He left her there for awhile to complete his nightly routine and secure the trailer. He also left a cup of water and bottle of aspirin on the counter next to her car keys, just in case.

Then he lay down beside her, and after some hesitation turned on his side and pulled her against him. When she made a humming sound he asked, close to her ear, "Is this okay?"

She turned in his arms and lay her head on his chest. He guessed it was more than okay.

He slept incredibly well that night, well enough that he didn't even awake when she finally roused and, adequately sober, drove home.

The next morning he brought her coffee, and they sat on her front step and talked about TALKING about getting back to the real world, just before Abbott called and made the transition immediate.

(The first time they'd shared a bed had been at the resort after he'd 'hijacked' her plane. She'd checked out of her room before going to the airport, and he'd offered to share; a practical arrangement. In bed, easily no less than a foot between them, they had talked, and slept, and nothing more. "Anything that happens until I've spoken to Marcus makes this an affair. And he deserves better. But I'm not having this conversation with him by phone. He deserves better than that, too.")


	3. States of Undress

"Oh! I'm sorry - " Jane immediately averted his eyes then turned his back to give her privacy. He hadn't realized she'd been planning to change right away; when she'd arrived dinner was ready and all she'd said was, "I'm just going to drop my bag inside." And the Airstream didn't exactly afford a lot of places to hide.

"No, it's fine Jane. I should have warned you." She'd was already in yoga pants, and the sports bra she'd just slipped on was more modest than what a lot of people wore running. While she wasn't one to be proud of her body in a way that made her show it off, she also knew she was in good shape and didn't feel she had anything to hide. "We're not twelve, and I'm not naked. You can turn around."

And so he did, leaning against the counter as he watched her continue to take her time carefully folding her work clothes before pulling on a tank top, all the while filling him in on what had taken place after he'd left work.

She was toeing on her flipflops before she finally looked over at him again and saw his expression. It was enough to stop her story mid-sentence. "What?"

"Oh, nothing."

But his expression didn't change. "No, really. What?" She was walking toward him now, ready to join him outside where he'd set the table.

He slid a hand down her bare arm as she passed. "You're just a very beautiful woman, Lisbon." A pause. "And I am a very lucky man."

"Shut up." But the flush of her cheeks and the tone of her voice told him she was pleased.

(The first time, he'd come out of the shower with a towel tied VERY low on his waist, his golden ringlets dripping water onto his chest. She'd flushed then, too, but for a different reason. She'd said nothing, done nothing. She was leaving that morning for Washington, to tell Pike it was over.)


	4. Hips

The first time Jane had stood behind her and brought his hands to rest lightly on her hips, it had felt like an experiment. Despite years of deep affection and both of them being rather tactile in the right situations, they had never really touched each other much. And so now every touch seemed like an epiphany, and the quiet intimacy of hands not on the waist but lower meant something.

It had happened in front of the bathroom mirror at the resort. She had just finished drying her hair and was running a brush through it when Jane entered to tell her the front desk had called and a car would be there in 10 minutes to take her to the airport to catch her flight to Washington (to see Pike, to end it, to completely change the course of her life). Their eyes had met in the mirror, and he'd just had to touch her. She'd stiffened, then relaxed, then sighed, then continued to brush her hair as he'd walked away.

The second time found her hands covering his and her body leaning back flush against him. In line to get popcorn at the theatre, like normal people, their first date.


	5. I Love You - Him

It was more than the second time, in the strictest sense. He'd said it before, in her office, the day he pretended to shoot her. It had slipped out, and what it had meant then wasn't what it meant now, not really. It had come from a very genuine place, and reflected deep gratitude and affection. But at that time he hadn't get been released to love again, not in the way he meant the words now, not in the way he had meant them on the plane when he'd repeated them over and over.

But what we considered the TRUE second time was almost more difficult, because she didn't say it back.

"You sure you don't want me to come with you to the airport?"

"I'm not sure if they'll let you through the doors without a police escort," she joked. She was on her way to Washington to explain things to Pike the best she could, so it was a wonder she could joke at all.

Jane was sitting on the bed, watching her. "You're probably right. They'll be expecting Abbott and Cho in full G-Man mode today when we head home, no doubt." Their flight back to Texas was scheduled for early afternoon.

Standing by the door nervously, she obviously didn't know what to do. Her carry on, a knapsack with her laptop, toiletries and change of clothes (she'd learned to be prepared after an airline had once lost her luggage) was at her feet; her checked bag hadn't departed the plane when she had the night before. She'd been in touch with airport security at her destination, and they were being held for her in a secure location. The benefits of having a badge. "So I guess this is goodbye," she said finally.

"Don't say it like that. You make it sound like forever." He was on his feet now, walking toward her. Stopping when he reached her. Her nervousness was catching, but he tried to play it cool. "Don't freak out, but I'm going to hug you now."

She made a face as though the thought that it would rattle her was ludicrous. An entirely unconvincing face which was mercifully buried into his chest a moment later. It turned into a long, comfortable moment as she gave in, let herself enjoy it. She only stiffened when he said the words.

"I love you, Teresa."

She stepped back.

"I know," he assured her. They'd talked about it the night before. "I know, but I'm going to keep saying it. Unless that really bothers you." Suddenly he looked a little scared. "Does it?"

She couldn't help but smile. Her hand touched his arm. "No. I want you to keep saying it."

Relief was evident on his face. "You may get sick of hearing it." He was beaming now, boyish.

"Not possible."

A porter arrived then to walk her to her car, and there was no further goodbye; nothing else needed to be said.


	6. Speaking of Charlotte

He'd spoken of her before, of course, in the context of the case, of the murder. But Lisbon never knew how to bring up the subject, or whether she should. She didn't know if he would WANT to talk about his daughter, to remember out loud.

The first time he'd brought her up after they'd begun their relationship had caught her by surprise, especially how casual it had seemed. She'd been sitting on a bench near an outdoor crime scene, texting an update to Cho, annoyed because the wind was blowing the hair falling out of her loose ponytail into her eyes. Jane had walked up behind her, removed the elastic, and gathered her hair in his hands, twisting strands into a passable french braid while they talked and she finished sending instructions to the team. When she tucked her phone in her pocket and reached back to feel what he'd done, she reacted to his secret skill.

"I used to braid Charlotte's." His hands went to her shoulders, a light and affectionate squeeze. "Ready to go?"

She had nodded dumbly and followed him to the car, not knowing what to say.

Some days later they were at her house and Jane had thrown his wallet on the table after pulling out some cash for the pizza guy at the door.

Teresa was feeling comfortable that evening, comfortable with him and where their relationship was heading. Comfortable enough to feel like she could get away with a little snooping.

When he returned to the kitchen, he didn't scold her, even in jest. The smile he gave her very much exuded a "my-wallet-is-your-wallet" attitude; he was feeling comfortable that evening, too.

She examined his driver's license while he dished food onto their plates. "You're even gorgeous in your DMV photo. How is that possible?"

Lisbon wasn't teasing; her assessment was shared as a statement of fact and that pleased him all the more. "The trick is to smile with your eyes even if you aren't actually allowed to smile," he instructed.

"I guess." She looked again. "The hair and the nose and the the cheekbones help, too." Now she was teasing, and he leaned over to kiss her forehead before sitting down.

After taking a bite of her dinner, she kept snooping. ATM cards, insurance, a few memberships. And a picture of his daughter.

A moment of hesitation, a breath, and then she said the girl's name, maybe for the first time to him. "Charlotte was gorgeous, too."

"Hmm. She was," Jane agreed. "Inside and out."

Lisbon laid the picture on the table, studied it thoughtfully while she ate. And then for a moment studied him, watched him watching her, trying to read his expression. And she considered it was like on his license, like he'd maybe told _himself_ he couldn't smile - not with his murdered daughter being discussed - but yet his eyes were still smiling. Because whatever sadness he might always feel about how it had ended, there would be good memories too.

His eyes made her brave. And she WAS feeling comfortable that evening, after all. "Tell me about her," she encouraged without a trace of pity in her voice.

And, beginning with a true, full smile that she had asked, he did.


	7. Terms of Endearment

Jane had taken to doing his laundry at Lisbon's house, which made them feel warm and domestic without either feeling rushed and had prompted Teresa's early suggestion that he should have a drawer or two, some space in her closet.

Jane was transferring clothes - a mixture of his and hers - from the washer when he saw her in the hallway outside the laundry room. He called out to her. "Sweetheart, do you have any more drier sheets?"

The first time he'd tried out a term of endearment ("Hey, gorgeous") he'd been all intention and sass and a bit of lust. But this time he hadn't even noticed what he said. And it was that lack of filter when usually he was so deliberate in all his communications that made her grin from ear to ear.

"What?" he questioned as she squeezed past him to check the cupboard. He couldn't understand her smile, and it made her smile that much wider. "What is it?" He was grinning now too.

"Nothing," she assured him. "Looks like we're out; I'll add it to the list." And then she was kissing him.

"Wow," he exclaimed when she finally pulled away. "If I'd known how happy it would make you when I did your laundry, I would have started a long time ago."

"If I said you make me happy all the time, would I have to start washing my own clothes again?"

He was ready with a joke about being allowed to "hand wash her delicates" which he would whisper into her ear, making it sound downright filthy. But her admission of happiness suddenly turned the moment tender for him when he let it sink in, and he held her instead.

(He saved the joke for another time. And it went over just the way he hoped it would.)


	8. I Love You - Her

She'd told him that she felt the same way, but it didn't quite count. And the words came much later, at the picnic after the christening. That first time he hadn't been kidding when he told her he'd been surprised and moved. But it was the second time that it found its way deep into his heart, had a grounding effect that was unexpected and settling and warm.

It happened a few days later when they were in the field, but not together. She called him for an update and he stepped away from an interview to give it; he'd already gotten the information he was looking for in the first 30 seconds of interaction, so he was happy to leave Cho to continue the more traditional line of questioning. She was in her car driving back to the office.

It was business as usual until it was time to sign off.

"Looks like Cho's ready to leave," Jane told her. "We'll be heading back soon."

"See you in a bit."

"Okay. I love you."

It wasn't uncommon for him to end a phone conversation this way when no one was around. And he always tended to hang up quickly so she wouldn't feel pressured to say it back.

But today he waited, and was rewarded without a hint of hesitation. "Love you too. Bye."

And it was so meaningful to hear it that he had to take a moment to fight the tears stinging his eyes before he followed Cho to the car.


	9. Dirty Talk

**Author's Notes:** It seemed this one got away from me a bit in terms of length, but some details are too delightful to gloss over for the sake of form. And while the chapters addressing some of the events mentioned in this piece are still under development, I just couldn't wait to share this with you.

* * *

The first time was notable.

From the vantage point of the couch in the bullpen, Jane could tell that Lisbon was uncomfortable as she worked away at her desk, and a quick calculation made him suspect why. She was rooting through her drawers for something, apparently unsuccessfully.

Without warning he stood and took a step forward to grab the back of her chair, rolling her toward him and turning her to face him as he resumed his position.

After her initial surprise she just let it happen, an attempt at a scolding frown on her face.

"Hey," he greeted with his usual attentive expression.

Lately that look turned her to mush, which would have annoyed her if she hadn't felt so... mushy. "Hey yourself."

"I'm going to run out to do an errand. Anything I can bring back for you?"

"No, I'm good."

"You sure?" His warm fingers wrapped around her calf through her jeans, a thumb rubbing the side of her knee. It caused Lisbon to glance around, making sure no one would see, but she didn't push him away.

"Um… Maybe some Tylenol?"

"Of course." They shared an adorable smile, and then he stood again and wheeled her back in place. "Text me if you think of anything else."

When he returned he made a stop in the kitchen then headed to his couch, waiting for her to get off the phone before motioning for her to join him. "Bring your work," he suggested – she'd been pouring over hard copy records, from the looks of her desk.

She gathered up a few files and obliged him, sitting next to him. After handing her a small paper cup from the water cooler he fished out the medicine bottle from his pocket and started reading the back for dosage. When she recognized the label her cheeks turned pink. "That's not Tylenol."

He handed her two pills. "I thought this would be more effective."

"How could you possibly…?"

"Lisbon, remember who you're talking to." He'd once overhead her talking to Grace about her cycle, about how the first day was bad and then things were generally business as usual. And since then he'd learned her tells and had always been extra nice (or extra absent) when the day arrived. Today he'd chosen nice. He tucked the pill bottle into her jacket as he shifted closer to her. "So, what are we working on?" His fingers slipped behind her back, under her shirt, drawing comforting patterns.

"Jane…" she hissed in warning.

"What? Doesn't it feel good?"

She opened a file on her lap to create the illusion of work, and he leaned in to play along. "Well… actually yes." Pink cheeks again. "But we're at the office."

"No one is paying any attention to us." He was right. "Or is this just you being a little embarrassed?"

"Shut up."

"I'm surprised," he commented. "Growing up with brothers I would have thought you wouldn't be so self-conscious about basic bodily functions."

"Oh, my God." Yep, definitely embarrassed.

"Lisbon, I was married for a long time. Long enough not to be squeamish about this type of thing. I even have a few home remedies I'd be happy to help you with. For example…" He leaned close to her ear and whispered.

This time Lisbon's cheeks turned bright red. He might have expected a tirade but apparently she was struck dumb. And he could tell by her pupils when she turned to face him that this _was_ embarrassment, yes, but there was definitely arousal in the mix.

"Interested?" he pressed, smirking.

She was shaking her head now, exasperated and trying not to afford him the satisfaction of a win in this ridiculous situation. And then she succeeded, the look she gave him somehow nearly as inappropriate as his whispered words. "Ask me again next month."

As she returned to her desk, it was HIS cheeks that were pink as he coughed, shifted in his seat, and started internally listing the state capitals in alphabetical order.

The second time was rather unbelievable.

"Fooling around" seemed like such a juvenile term, but it was the best descriptor for what they were doing. They'd kissed a few times now, and each time had been nice and sweet and affectionate, but this was more of a handsy hot mess than they'd previous experienced with each other. Significantly more.

Considering they'd shared an honest conversation over a very late after-work dinner about Pike and baggage, in the back of his mind he couldn't help but wondering if this was partly her needing to prove something, to him or to herself. It had been her idea for him to stay, despite the heaviness the subject matter had pulled over them, maybe because of it. They'd washed the dishes, watered the outdoor plants of a neighbour who was on vacation. Then, with things still feeling heavy, he'd suggested that he should make his way home and see her at work the next day.

"No, stay, please. I don't want to leave things weird like this." She'd pulled him back inside the house, and he'd offered little resistance.

"You want to talk some more?" he'd offered. Their conversation since dinner had avoided the subject, unconvincingly ignored it.

"No. I don't think there's that much more to say, do you?"

"Honestly, I think we could talk about it forever. I just don't know that it would get us anywhere tonight."

"I'm sorry." For the baggage. For the defensive tone she'd used at dinner. For the judgment she'd turned, however momentarily, on him.

He'd kissed her chastely. "Me too." For the same, and for so much more.

"Let's watch a movie," Lisbon suggested. "Okay?"

Jane was more than agreeable. He wasn't much for TV and movies because they tended to be too predictable even though actors never really acted like real people did, not in the way Jane noticed people acting. But sitting quietly with her outside of the context of work was still so new to him, and he wasn't about to pass up the chance. They selected something from Netflix neither had seen before, then settled in.

In the past, they'd sat together here in a variety of ways, each time reflecting their growing closeness and comfort. The last time, a few nights before, she'd leaned into his side with his arm around her, his free hand covering hers on his thigh, and they'd continued to talk and laugh and feel comfortable being together. That had been nice.

But this evening she'd needed something more, needed to give him more. To show him that they could have honest conversations and it didn't mean she would pull away or wanted to push him away. Hoping that it would buy her some grace in the future when her baggage came to the surface again. Hoping that it would invite him to share his baggage with her without fear, so that his dead family wouldn't always be hanging over their relationship.

So when Jane slouched into the back of the sofa, feet propped comfortably on an ottoman, she immediately tucked herself into him, legs tangling with his, hand restless on his chest and fiddling with his buttons, on his stomach, his thigh. In response his own hands were busy, toying, caressing, seeking skin wherever he could reach. Exploring. Testing limits.

They'd both been pretending to watch for about 15 minutes when Jane finally spoke up. "So what is this movie about?"

She laughed. "I have no idea." She craned her neck to look up at his grinning face, and then they were kissing, him coaxing her to get more comfortable, get closer, until finally she was facing him, straddling his lap. This was new.

They still held back, for awhile at least. The kisses were slow and soft, their hands safe and gentle. Until they weren't.

Eventually the combination of anticipation and affection and friction and Jane's lips and teeth and tongue applied so expertly to her mouth, her neck, her collarbone, his fingers brushing the sides of her breasts, the way he was shifting beneath her just so, it all fell together in her unexpected release. While she tried to hide it Jane heard her breath hitch and it brought a look of wonder - with maybe a hint of pride - to his face. "Did you just…?"

"Shut up." She hid her face in his neck.

"Don't be embarrassed on my account. That was...incredibly sexy."

But when she made it clear she was more than happy to return the favour, he begged off, knowing that he wouldn't be able to stop with seeking a little friction, and not wanting what HE wanted to do to her just then to end up causing friction of an entirely different kind. (They had yet to talk about NOT having sex, and while his blood supply was focused south he did have enough making it to his brain to realize that conversation should probably precede them actually HAVING sex, considering how their relationship had unfolded so far.)

The next day, he met her in the lobby, had waited for her. "Good morning, Lisbon."

"Good morning, Jane." Even expression, even tone.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Very well, thank you." They were alone waiting for the elevator. She curled her fingers around his elbow, a gesture that was innocuous enough. "I had a good time last night."

There was a smirk in his voice. "I noticed." She didn't react, not even in embarrassment, and he thought maybe she just wasn't going to play.

The lift arrived, empty, and they stepped inside, her hand slipping down his arm and into his, squeezing before breaking contact. "You should come over again tonight."

"Oh, really? You have some ideas on things we could do?"

"One or two." And the next thing he knew she was whispering those ideas in his ear, her language not crude but clear and startling enough. And to her absolute glee, she was rewarded by seeing him more flustered than ever before.

"Lisbon! You can't…! Do you kiss your brothers with that mouth?"

"Come over tonight and if you're lucky I'll kiss _you_ with that mouth."

He was looking everywhere but her now, rather certain he must be dreaming. "Oh, my God. How is this happening?" As well as he knew her, as good as he was at reading people, the words that had come out of her mouth he never would have imagined in a thousand years.

The elevator stopped on a floor that wasn't there's, and someone they didn't know stepped inside. They moved to the back of the car to accommodate, and Lisbon could hear Jane muttering under his breath.

"What are you doing?" she asked him, curious.

"Listing the US presidents in reverse order."

This admission caused her to glance down to the front of his trousers, which he noticed and immediately adjusted his jacket to cover.

They were late for a briefing in the bullpen and stood in the back. But he couldn't focus and she wouldn't stop glancing at him with what he could only judge as being pride. Pride, perhaps, that she had reduced him to this, that she had finally surprised him.


	10. Kiss

Their first kiss in the detention area of the airport, separated by a table and under the scrutiny of an annoyed TSA agent who took issue with the gesture, had been more an act to seal the moment than anything else. It was sweet and meaningful, but it was the kiss of two people who didn't know yet what it felt like to be comfortable together in that way.

Their second kiss came about much later than might have been expected, but it was understandable given the circumstances. Lisbon's propriety kept winning the day, and even Jane had the sense that to expect her to simply move on was in poor taste if nothing else. In no way did she believe she'd made the wrong choice, but for as much as Marcus hadn't been the RIGHT person, he had been a GOOD person, and her feelings for him had been genuine. And even if he never knew she felt she owed it to him to honour what they'd had by giving herself some time, and letting that be okay.

And so it wasn't until the end of their first case back, after Pike had come and gone and the road trip in the antique car Jane had rented had first distracted and then given them time to reflect, that they kissed again.

He'd brought her home, walked her to her door with the promise of picking her up for work in the morning. He needed to return the car by 8 so he could get a ride back to the FBI to pick up his own vehicle. There wasn't a lot of time.

"This was... this was so nice. So sweet of you." She looked down at their joined hands. "You know you don't need to spoil me to win me over. "

He wanted to say it was the least he could do, considering what he'd taken her from. Pike had asked Jane what his plan was, and Jane would much later admit to having been ashamed that he didn't have an answer, that letting what they felt was right be their guide had been all he'd been able to offer her then. And at his admission she would reveal to him that his LACK of a plan, from a man who tried and so often succeeded to control the people and situations around him, was upon further pondering the very thing that had led her to kiss him that night.

He said nothing, however. And when she looked up, gave him a nervous little smile, and then kissed him, he almost felt unworthy of it. He responded all the same, his hands now light at her hips, forcing himself to be present, knowing that someday he'd want to remember this moment for what it was: her declaration that she was ready to take a step toward moving on.

(It was their third kiss, a blessed combination of affection and budding familiarity, that made Jane feel like he never wanted to stop kissing her, that made Lisbon concerned that they would never be able to keep things professional at work.)


	11. Not Taking About His Wedding Ring

They'd both thought about it, of course, but just not really at the same time, not in any way that lent itself to discussion. But situations where it either needed to be discussed or NOT discussed were inevitable.

The first time it had been unconsciously brought to attention and then consciously avoided. It wasn't the right time to talk about it anyway - in the back of the SUV with Cho driving and Abbott dozing in the passenger seat. A long drive, a late night, Teresa using every ounce of willpower not to unbuckle her seat belt and scoot over to Jane's side. The hand that had snuck onto her thigh, away from Cho's rear-view eye-line, was a poor consolation. When she found herself absently fiddling with his wedding ring, turning it around on his finger without a thought and then glancing over to find him looking at her with a conflicted expression, she'd just given him a reassuring little smile and moved to fiddle with his cuff instead.

The second time was before their "first time", as he slowly undressed her and caressed the skin he uncovered. In the midst of the heady wonderment and hormones, the sight of his ring on the hand that traced along the swell of her breast to her stomach gave him pause, drew his focus just long enough for Teresa to clue in.

It didn't feel like cheating; that definitely wasn't the issue. Patrick knew that he had loved his wife well, and he had certainly been faithful to his vows of "until death do us part". He'd continued in his singular devotion until her killer had been brought to ultimate justice by Jane's own hand. He had honoured her in life and in death. And he knew she'd want him to move on and be happy.

Yet the ring served as a symbol of so much more than just their vows, more than Jane, however self-aware, had even tried to itemize. He just knew it as a feeling and he knew to remove the ring felt wrong, even as he was about to make love with the woman he imagined he might spend the rest of his life with.

In another situation Lisbon might have been frozen, unsure of what to do. But Jane was naked and she was mostly naked and they'd waited far too long for this. And so instead of freezing, instead of trying to navigate with words, she took his hand and kissed it, just above where his ring sat. And then, meeting his eyes with a look full of affection and lust, she returned his fingers to her stomach and gently urged them lower.


	12. Cooperating

**Author's Notes:** I have to say that this seems to be a wonderful little community, and I'm glad my husband's decision to binge-watch this show on Netflix made me end up here. I have been so encouraged by your feedback and engagement. Thank you!

* * *

Since their first case back when she'd scolded him, told him he didn't need to wait to tell her things until he felt she needed to know - an awkward moment that saw him genuinely apologizing and her essentially apologizing for making him feel like he needed to apologize - he'd been doing better, certainly. But it was the next big reveal that assured her he'd taken the sentiment to heart.

Jane had been laying on his couch for a couple of hours at least, more or less unmoving, and Lisbon kept glancing over expectantly. Wiley had stopped at her desk once to comment about sleeping on the job, but Lisbon had backed Jane up, saying it was part of the process and soon enough a plan would be hatched.

True to form, when he _did_ open his eyes and turn his head toward her, waiting for her to notice him, his expression indicated that not only had the plan hatched, but it was to be a rare bird indeed.

What surprised her was that he immediately called her to his couch and proceeded to lay it all out for her, every bit.

"So what do you think?" he asked when he was through, his standard boyish grin not quite masking that whatever she was about to say would actually mean something to him.

It was good that Lisbon noticed this, because there were many things she could have said in response to his ridiculous plan, about how it was too elaborate, how it would never work, how he was obviously out of his mind.

But it was _Jane_ who was surprised when her answer was a covert squeeze of his hand, a knowing look, and "I think I want to be there when you pitch it to Abbott. _That_ should be a laugh."

It was. Abbott was characteristically skeptical and basically reacted in all of the ways Lisbon had chosen not to. And when he looked to her for her opinion, she just shrugged. "He's not asking for a marching band this time," she supplied evenly.

Abbott shook his head as though he couldn't believe what he was about to say. "I suppose this isn't the most cockamamie plan I've signed off on for this one," he said finally, gesturing accusingly toward Jane. "But Lisbon, I'm leaving it to you to make sure he doesn't get himself killed and this doesn't make it in the papers in such a way that I'm going to need to start updating my resume."

Later, on about step 16 of the plan (which if pressed even _he_ would have to admit to being bit shocked was going off without a hitch), Jane and Lisbon were tucked away together in a bedroom closet. They were wired so they weren't saying much, but Jane couldn't help but tell her "Thank you."

"For what?"

His hand ran down her arm, communicating in a way the wire wouldn't reveal. "For backing me up on this." And she suspected he meant for not trying to change him, or at the very least for believing in him.

The wire DID pick up a shuffling, shifting sound, and in the van around the corner a junior agent asked Cho if they were getting ready to move. But it was just Lisbon sliding her body between Jane's knees so he could wrap his arms around her and she could rest against his chest.


	13. Date

The movie had been her idea. Only a few days back from Washington, from ending things with Pike, Lisbon needed something easy. With the exception of the moment they'd had in the lobby, his hands on her hips and her body pressing back into his, this fit the bill. They shared an armrest and a bucket of popcorn and it would have looked to anyone like they were friends and nothing more.

For their second date, she was back in the pink dress at his request. A fancy restaurant where she entered on his arm and there was a wine list and someone playing the piano live. They had a reservation but were early, so they sat at the bar to wait for their table.

It was a lovely atmosphere, and Jane was being his usual attentive self, leaning into their conversation, making her feel not just like she was the centre of his attention but the centre of the universe. And yet despite how smooth and relaxed and controlled he might have seemed to anyone looking in from the outside, she could tell he was excited and nervous and not trying to impress but to really CONNECT with her, and she found it utterly charming despite her own butterflies.

"There's a dance floor," he pointed out. There was, a small area near the piano.

"But no one else is dancing." Coy but shy.

"Leave it to us to start something," he replied, standing and taking her hand.

"Patrick..." And then she heard the familiar muted ringtone coming from her purse. "Saved by the bell."

She had a go-bag in her trunk and changed in the back seat while Jane drove, with him on his honour to keep "eyes front." The crime scene was only a few blocks away, but with the impending rain time was of the essence so she insisted they go straight there and save the detour to a drive-thru until they were headed back to the office.

True to her word, they rolled into a fast food joint at around 11 p.m. The rain had stopped and Jane needed to use the washroom so he offered to go in and get their food, leaving Lisbon to answer her ringing phone. When he returned she was outside the car, pacing around the corner of the mostly empty lot. Setting the food on the hood, he walked up behind her to listen in to her side of the conversation. Or at least that was the excuse he used to stand so close.

As distracted as she was, as cold as she felt in the night air, he didn't need an excuse. The moment he stepped into her personal space she leaned into him.

At first he simply stood, his arms at his side. But when the fingers of the hand that weren't holding her phone reached to find his, he took that as permission. His other hand went to her waist to hold her against him and he pressed a kiss against her hair. As warmth built between them, Jane started to sway and eventually Lisbon clued in to what he was doing.

"Can you hold on a minute?" She pressed the phone to her stomach to cover the microphone and turned in his arms. "Jane, there's no music."

"Yes, yes, and no one else is dancing. I know."

But he didn't stop the movement and pulled her even closer. What could she do but shake her head and allow her body to sway along with him while she finished her phone conversation and even awhile after, while she took the time to truly enjoy his arms around her and to reflect on the fact that despite the dead body that had interrupted it, it wasn't the worst date she'd ever had. In that moment, she might even have rated it one of the best.


	14. Sex

After rattling Jane in the elevator, Lisbon was in fine form. Despite being on a case, she kept throwing him suggestive glances, brushing up against him when she'd walk by, leaning too close when he sat at her desk, touching him when no one was looking, and not always innocently. It was almost a relief when Cho had ordered Jane to accompany him to an interview. But when they all met up again at what was determined to be a secondary crime scene, Lisbon all but ignored him until she had a chance to pull him into an empty room and kiss him thoroughly.

When the team was ready to head back to the office, Jane told Cho he would drive back with Lisbon, and ran to catch up.

The moment he was in the passenger seat with the door closed behind him, he said, "You're being cruel. You need to stop."

His tone was a little more serious than he'd perhaps intended, causing Lisbon to pause, taking the vehicle out of gear. She turned in her seat to face him, her smirk tempered by a niggle of fear. "I'm not trying to be cruel."

"Well, for someone not trying you're VERY good at it." He was more guarded now, so his expression was lighter. "All this teasing… You're killing me here, Teresa."

Her ego enjoyed that. "I'm just trying to build some anticipation; I thought you'd enjoy it. I'M definitely enjoying it." Then her eyes narrowed. "Why AREN'T you enjoying it?" This whole day she'd assumed he was just dealing with being thrown off kilter, with not being in total control. But it was the way his expression had changed - however slightly - at the use of the word "anticipation" that clued her in. "You DO know that I'm not just teasing, right? That tonight... I thought I made that clear in the elevator this morning."

"Oh." A pause, and then his whole demeanor seemed to change. "Oh!"

"Unless… Unless you're not ready."

"Oh, I'm ready," he blurted, and she laughed as she pulled the SUV away from the curb. He chuckled too. "What I MEANT to say, of course, is that I think WE'RE ready. Don't you?"

She removed one hand from the wheel and placed it on his thigh. "If I didn't, I can't imagine I would have allowed myself to act so unprofessionally today." She took a moment to think about it. "Wow. I really HAVE behaved unprofessionally today." Suddenly she wasn't so pleased with herself.

Then his hand was covering hers. "If it's any consolation, I'm fairly certain I'm the only one that noticed. And if anything it may have actually HELPED your work."

Lisbon _had_ been on top of her game, with the case already close to resolution almost exclusively due to her insights and interviewing. So he didn't feel too guilty when for the rest of the day he teased her right back.

But that night, when their naked bodies came together for the first time, any feeling that it was an answered challenge, a payback, something to be proven, was absent. Instead it was awkward and beautiful and physically not even that good. But it didn't matter because mentally, emotionally, something clicked into place and later there were happy tears shed by both parties without regret.

(Their second time, the next morning, she carried out one of the suggestions she'd startled him with in the elevator the day before. And it was VERY good.)


	15. Proposal

With Angela, he'd been all boyish energy and mushy feelings and above all CERTAIN. When Jane had asked her to marry him, there had been no question in his mind that she would react in just the way she did: throwing her arms around him, kissing him senseless, happy tears streaming down her cheeks, rushing to tell everyone so they could share in her joy.

With Libson it couldn't have been more different. A quiet, private moment over sandwiches where he was so unsure, so worried about needing to say things just right so she would understand, so she would relent, that he could barely look at her. His wedding ring in his hand instead of on his finger, so meaningful to him to repurpose it as a symbol of the past that led him to her, of the future they could have together. Hoping so desperately that she could accept it, accept him.

"Excellent - I'm glad that's dealt with. I was a little nervous."

He kicked himself later for reacting in such a flippant way to hide (poorly) his intense relief when she said "yes". But the alternative would have been to risk finding himself sobbing in her arms, and he'd done enough crying since he finally allowed himself to admit his feelings.

Later that day, Lisbon would kick HERself when she pondered his words in reply to her accusation that he'd known what her response would be - "After all these years you're still a mystery to me" - and realized that if he honestly hadn't recognized her desire to spend the rest of her life with him, then something needed to change. Because while she liked the idea that he couldn't always anticipate her thoughts and words and actions, couldn't read her as well as he seemed to read everyone else, she hated the idea that the depth of her feelings could be in any way surprising, that they needed to be expounded on aloud.

And so with the promise of "'til death do us part" already made in her heart, she vowed to herself to do better, so he would never have to guess about her love for him again.


	16. Telling Someone

Grace was less than two hours away on business. It was supposed to be a quick trip but a complication had led her to book a later flight. Expecting to have things wrapped up by mid-afternoon the next day, she called Lisbon to see if she'd be available for dinner. "It won't be a long visit; I'll need to get back to the hotel and get a reasonable sleep before my flight out Saturday."

That was when Lisbon had suggested she stay over Friday night and head to the airport in the morning. Insisted, actually, and was pleased when Grace agreed without much fuss.

Jane was pleased, too. He liked Grace, and knew that Lisbon had very few close female friends. Not that they had ever seemed too intimate, but he expected that this would be a good time for them to build on what they had.

"I'll stay in the Airstream," he'd announced without waiting for her to bring it up. Him sleeping over was a very new development in their relationship, one they were both enjoying immensely. But he assumed she'd want him out for the night, and so thought it would be the gentlemanly thing to offer.

"Jane -"

"No, I'm happy to. Give you girls some time to catch up."

"I appreciate that, but you really don't have to." And then she revealed she knew his real reason for broaching the subject. "She's going to know anyway."

"You're going to tell her about us?" He was genuinely surprised. They'd fallen into a comfortable routine of professionalism more than secrecy, and it had created a dynamic that they both liked and didn't see a reason to upset. They were open about their relationship in public, with strangers, with people that didn't really matter. And truth be told if one of the team were to approach either of them with questions, neither would deny it. But no one close to them asked, and if they had their suspicions, they weren't sharing them.

"I'm guessing I won't need to."

He was confused. "We're going out with Cho, aren't we?" She'd arranged for the four of them to have dinner together when Grace arrived, for old times' sake. And he'd expected that if only because Cho would be there they'd be acting toward each other the way they did at work. Now he wasn't sure.

"Yes, Cho will be there." She grinned sweetly at him in the mirror and uncapped the toothpaste. "And no, I don't plan to stick my tongue down your throat in the middle of the restaurant if that's what you're thinking. So don't get any ideas."

Jane's toothbrush was already in his mouth when he smirked and said around it, only somewhat coherently, "Woman, you give me all kinds of ideas."

The conversation was delayed when she kicked him out of the bathroom to finish her nighttime routine. When she joined him in bed he was reading, but he immediately set down the book and resumed his questioning. "So what did you mean about Grace knowing? Because just for the record I wasn't planning on sticking MY tongue down YOUR throat either."

"Well, that's disappointing." And then she tucked herself into his side and made a liar out of him.

"I meant tomorrow at the restaurant," he clarified needlessly when they finally parted, and they shared a breathless smile before she settled with her head on his chest and laid an arm across his middle. "She won't know unless _you_ give it away," Jane insisted. "I'm the picture of discretion."

"You wanna make a friendly wager on that?"

"Depends. What are the stakes?"

After a moment of thought she made a rather filthy suggestion that would be enjoyable for both no matter the winner, so he was quick to agree. And quick to slide a hand beneath her shirt as though he was thinking of trying to collect right away.

"Not so fast. We haven't set the terms." Then she rolled away from him, smiling a small, private smile when she heard the frustrated sound he made. She grabbed a pen from her bedside table and tore a page from the small notebook she kept there to record late night messages from the team. Using her left hand to hide her work, she quickly jotted two words before folding the paper. "This is my guess for how _you_ will give it away. If I'm right, I win."

How many times had Jane pulled this trick on her? The turn-about delighted him. "I accept."

He reached for her again, but she leaned over him instead and grabbed his cell from _his_ bedside table, popping off the case to slip the note inside before snapping it back together. "No cheating. Promise?" She switched off the light.

"I wouldn't dream of it. But you'd better not cheat, either."

"Not a chance. I plan to win this fair and square." Then she was kissing him again, and the subject was closed until the next day.

It had been a lovely dinner, a relaxed and fun night out among good friends, though Rigsby was missed. And as far as Jane could tell Teresa had been true to her word, had treated him no differently than she would in any public setting with members of the team. He'd also been on his best behaviour, the very "picture of discretion" he'd described, even avoiding the subtle flirting that would normally fly under the radar. Just in case.

So he was feeling pretty smug when, having volunteered to be their designated drive, he took them back to Lisbon's and walked them to the door, embracing Van Pelt and wishing her a safe trip home, taking his leave with nothing but a "goodnight" and a small wave to Teresa.

But when Lisbon shut the door behind them, the first words out of Van Pelt's grinning mouth were, "So, you and Jane, huh?"

And then the door was opened again, and Lisbon was calling to Jane to come back.

"Don't be alarmed," Lisbon told Grace in a playful voice when she saw her understandably confused expression. "We just need you to settle a little bet." Jane, crossing the threshold in time to hear the explanation, wordlessly pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to Teresa so she could retrieve her prediction. "So, tell us." Now _she_ was feeling smug, confident she knew the answer. "How did you know?"

"About the two of you?" Grace's cheeks turned a little pink at the questioning and she looked at her shoes when she responded, but the confirmation pleased her. "Well, mostly it was just the look on your face whenever you thought no one was paying attention."

"Aha!" Lisbon exclaimed triumphantly, holding the paper containing the words "YOUR FACE" up so they could both see. She was pleasantly buzzed from the alcohol she'd ordered with dinner and it made her speech much less inhibited than usual. "I told you, Jane! Even when you're trying to be professional you get this gooey, love-struck look that should have outed us a million times!"

"I absolutely do not!" he protested with a laugh.

But before he could defend himself further, Grace, who was emboldened by _their_ comfort with the subject matter, found herself interjecting, "Really, Jane, you kind of do." She saw them both about to speak up but in the sake of fairness soldiered on. " _However,_ it was actually _your_ face that gave it away, Boss. Jane's been looking at you like that for years."

She hadn't had time to give any thought to what their reaction might be. But they grew suddenly sober and quiet, and Grace's cheeks turned pink again when she saw both of their eyes were shining with the threat of tears and she recognized the very special moment she'd unwittingly brought about and was now intruding on.

"I guess you win," Lisbon finally said, taking Jane's hand and giving it a meaningful squeeze.

Jane cleared his throat, blinked a few times, then suggested they call it a draw before making a hasty offer to take Grace's overnight bag, which had been set just inside the front door when she'd first arrived, to the guest room.

He did end up staying over, but true to his intentions went straight to bed to read and left them alone to reconnect. And it was good for Teresa to have such a willing audience to share her story with. There was so much more to be said now than that night in the prison bunk, and Grace, bless her romantic heart, was determined to coax from her every detail.

And the next morning, despite her exhaustion at the early wake up and the late night of gabbing with her former boss, it made Grace positively gleeful to be able to witness Patrick Jane at his domestic best, making them breakfast in his pajamas, kissing Lisbon good morning when she finally stumbled down the stairs in search of coffee.

(The first relationship reveal that mattered had been to Marcus, of course, and Lisbon had wished he'd seemed more surprised. Still, it broke her heart to break his.)


	17. Weird

It worried him the first time when she couldn't help but laugh at his pajamas, all formal and button down like pretty much everything else she'd seen him wear. He'd brushed it off then with a joke about how they were for her benefit since he usually slept naked. (She'd countered with a teasing comment about how she didn't necessarily agree with his opinion of what would benefit her. But after a late departure from an out-of-town crime scene had found the team in a bed and breakfast for what was left of the night, Cho and Jane had been forced to shared a room, and it would have been telling if he hadn't returned after slipping away to kiss Teresa goodnight. And knowing this was probably what gave Lisbon the bravery to tease like that in the first place.)

The second time it was those same pajamas that opened the door to a broader conversation.

"It's cold in the Airstream at night," he explained. He'd slept over a few times now at her place, enough at least that sleep could happen without sex preceding it and pajamas were an option.

"Well, you're not in the Airstream tonight," she observed wryly as he joined her under the covers. "What's with the Airstream, anyway?"

The smile would have appeared bright if it had reached his eyes. "You think I'm weird."

It would have seemed like an abrupt conversational jump to an uninformed observer, but the last few days especially he'd noticed her teasing more, questioning more. His wardrobe, his mannerisms, his eccentricities. It hadn't bothered him until that very moment. And now it bothered him very much.

But before he could spiral into whatever funk it might have sent him into, Lisbon spoke. She was bolder now, more assured that what they had was real and it was okay to push a bit, test the limits a bit, especially when her motives were positive and pure. Which in this case, they were.

"I think that your brilliance and unconventional upbringing have given you some rather unique ways of interacting with the world. And I'd love to hear about what goes on in that head of yours sometimes. Because I want to know you better."

Things had changed for Jane, too; while he was less sure and less bold, he was at least less outwardly emotional. Which was good, because a proclamation like that might have made him a blubbering mess just a few weeks before. "Really?"

"Really." A tender kiss. "And I may harbour a few fantasies involving you in jeans and a t-shirt."

It turned out the pajamas had been premature after all. Soon enough they were on the floor.


	18. Hypnosis

"I can't find my keys." It wasn't a frantic statement; they were running way ahead of schedule and had lots of time to spare.

Jane was equally unconcerned, not even looking up from where he was reading on her couch when he asked, "Where did you last leave them?"

"Well, if I knew that I wouldn't be having trouble finding them, would I?" Lisbon's tone attempted irritated, but failed. Because he was in her house. Because he had made her breakfast. Because he'd slept over for the second time and waking up beside him had put her in the best of moods. "You going to help me or what?"

"I could hypnotise you if you'd like. Jog your memory."

The look she shot him had a clear "Yeah, right" to it. His returning look was just as clear: "Why not?"

"Really." She was incredulous not at his ability but that he would offer it so casually and actually mean it.

He was smiling now, warm and open. "We all have special skills. I'm terrible at finding keys, but I'm really good at this."

The first time he'd hypnotized her he'd had to trick her into it, despite that she'd initially agreed. She wasn't trusting enough, and trust - the ability to let go without fear that the other would take advantage - was key. But things had changed now, or so he thought.

And so when she agreed this time but followed that agreement with a rather serious warning to NOT take advantage or to ask her any personal questions while she's under, he couldn't hide his hurt behind his smile. But with a kiss his hurt was erased, as she clarified that if he wanted to know something personal or take advantage, she wanted to be awake to enjoy it. He stood in front of her, look both her hands in his, and began.

No resistance. No hesitation. And no problem finding what they were looking for.

"When you wake up, you will feel refreshed and energized and ready to tackle anything the day throws at you. You'll remember everything that happened while you were hypnotized… and you may feel the need to express your extreme thanks for my help with sexual favours."

When he tapped her arm her eyes opened and she smiled as she reoriented herself. Her keys were in her hand and she felt amazing. And then she frowned. "Sexual favours? Really?"

He shrugged. "You'll remember I made that part optional."

She checked her watch.


	19. Epilogue

A second marriage. A second child. A second chance to build a home and a life with the second woman he had ever truly loved.

Sometimes Jane felt guilty that it DIDN'T feel more difficult. Like it should hurt more, like every blessed, blissful "second" should be bittersweet.

It was Lisbon who helped the most, in the way that she took genuine pleasure in honouring the memory of his "firsts". The photos she displayed. The birthdays and anniversaries she didn't forget. The way that she made talking about his first wife to feel so natural and welcome. The way she made sure that their son grew up knowing that he had a sister named Charlotte who would have loved him so very much.

The fear still existed, and he could never quite shake it: fear that the final "second" would be to lose her, lose them. But Lisbon helped with this, too, in how she ceased to deny the risks of her job, ceased to try to snap him out of it when he couldn't mask his anxiety or started to spiral. Instead, she chose to embrace what WAS a certainty: that some day their lives would end - in a shootout, in a car accident, through disease or injury, by natural causes - and the only power given to them by God or the universe was to be truly present and joyful in the moment, making every day they DID have together special. Not taking the "seconds" for granted.

Seeing the effect her first halting efforts had on her husband, Lisbon grew to wield this power with as much skill as a sidearm, and insisted they bring up their son the same way.

And so Jane's life, his second life, was so full and so filled with contentment and meaning. And Lisbon, who felt like she was truly living for the first time, was deliriously happy.


End file.
